Laundry Buttons

June 24, 2008

faith for the faithless

I am not referencing God or religion or church or holiness when I write the word faith.

When I write faith, I'm referring to trust. Trust in life. Trust in good. Trust that everything will go along as planned because that is what is supposed to happen.

I have always been faithful in my life. I had never been given a reason not to be faithful. I am a good person, I never lie, I always try to do what's right because it's right, and not for personal gain.

I was faithful.

and then, oh my god, my babies died. These beautiful, amazing gifts that were given to us were taken away.

Faith was with me throughout my pregnancy with James and Jake. I had gone in for the ultrasound at eight weeks because I was experiencing painful cramping and discharge, after my ultrasound I went home and my doctor's office called and said "the doctor wants you to come in tomorrow morning because we want to find out why you were having cramps and the discharge." So, the next morning I hopped into the shower and I touched my belly and I cried. I cried so hard because I felt so blessed. I could not believe the gift we had been given.

An hour later I was sitting in the doctor's office, I could not wait to talk to her about the two babies growing inside of me. Instead she came in and said "according to the ultrasound, your babies share a sac (also known as monochorionic) and there is a 50% chance that they will not survive because their cords will become entangled, killing one and then the other. My hope is that the tech just did not get good enough images and that you do, in fact, have diamnionic twins (two separate sacs). We will do an ultrasound in our office in two weeks."

I left feeling crushed. My emotions went from elation to sadness, faster than I ever dreamed possible. I had planned to buy a twin pregnancy book after my doctor's appointment but I felt so silly doing that now after having that appointment.

But I did buy that book because I was faithful.

And so, two very long and emotional weeks later, on December 26th, we nervously entered the ultrasound room, the technician put the wand on my ten week belly and said "it's diamnionic." We cried, we were so happy and relieved. Except the words happy and relieved do not really even touch what we felt that day. We just knew we were so in love with these babies who were to join our family come this summer.

But then on December 31st, I started to bleed and my world came crashing down on me. Blood. The thing I feared the most every time I went to the bathroom. And there it was - that sign that something has gone wrong. I immediately paged my doctor who told me to go to the emergency room. I remember on the way there thinking "there is no way I am going to lose these babies." I was so scared, and it was so beyond me.

But I had faith and thirty minutes later I could see two little heartbeats.

So, on February 25th, 2008, when the nurse could not find their heart beats, I was fearful and faithful, I had faith as I took the elevator down to ultrasound, faith that these babies would soon be kicking me in my ribs. I had faith.

But then I watched the words "no cardiac movement" being typed slowly with one hand onto the screen. A piece of me died at the moment. And sometimes? I think that piece of me was my faith.

Because now I tread through life cautiously, I fear cars running into our's and injuring my children, I don't get my hopes up for our new house because I'm certain the deal will fall through, even with the closing being less than a week away. I fear another pregnancy, I fear I'll never see Brian again when he leaves for a business trip, I fear for Be Design, I have lost faith in myself and people and my surroundings.

I fear the rug being pulled out from beneath me in every situation.

I tread softly, cautiously, painfully through my days. I try to be brave, I try to trust. But sometimes, unfortunately, when I begin to regain that faith again, something else seems to happen and I lose the little bit of trust that I was able to build up in my life once again.

Comments

I feel so selfish that I've lost my trust faith, you have such a horrible ordeal to live with. I fear and have lost my trust in my home situation. My kids are my lights, but everything else kills a little piece of me each day. I won't flood you with the details but old house, new house, business trips, breathe them in as hard as you can. My domestic lack haunts me, I'm sick of being told to wait, wait, wait to realize my potential. Brick walls suck and I feel like it won't ever go away.

You express yourself so well and I positively ache for you. Not what you want to hear, I know, but THIS is where faith begins, baby. You are living the definition of the word faith. No one can deny the experience you're going through. You're actually moving on though I know it doesn't feel like it. You are loved and appreciated and responding in a normal way to a completely shitty circumstance. My faith and that of many friends and strangers is with you. We're gonna get you through...

I know this comment won't help right now but it might over time. I feel so bad for the pain you are suffering. Keep working through each day make a list on Monday and do it on Tuesday even if just a few housework type chores. You do have something others may not in that in your pain you have a soft place to fall. It is evident by the comments here that you have many who care for you. Your husband is providing while you heal. Your children are loving you while you heal. Many are praying for you and you will heal over time. The memory will always be painful but the new things that happen will bring a smile. You are not alone...you have support. You are doing well to make it through each day at this point and you are doing that with God's help. Just take the next step. You will make it.

I was like that after my brother died. In my case, and I know in many other people's, and I pray in yours, it comes back. With me it took years, literally. I'm still caught by surprise sometimes when I realize that something that would have bothered me years ago, I no longer think anything about--I never noticed the shift. Be good to yourself. Take things one day at a time. Do your best, eventually, it will get easier, it's cruel, and time will never take away your pain, but it does heal--it dulls--it helps. (((hugs)))

To me, "faith" equals "God." That is where my faith lies. And I know that even when circumstances may shake my faith or make me move away from God, God never moves away from me. He is unwavering, always there, caring and wanting to heal my pain. May you feel Him especially close to you during these hard times, and may HIS faithfulness to you eventually restore YOUR faith.

You express yourself so well. I just said a prayer for you. I hope you can find your faith in life again!

I think that the only place to find that faith in life again is God. He is always there for us and wants us to know of His love for each of us! He can help you regain your faith. It may take time, but you can have that back!

I know how it can feel to almost be afraid to have faith because you'll just get crushed again anyway. Like anticipating the let down. It's like you're in defense mode right now, with no sign of coming out of it... and it starts to get comfortable there. But you will come out of it someday. It might take leaning on others and relying on their own faith to get you through in the meantime, but you will get through.

When I lost my baby at 18 weeks, the way I described it best was that it was the death of hope. And I think that maybe your use of faith in this instance is kind of the same. There are no words that I can think of to give you now that will make it different. I guess I can tell you that at some point, I felt better. But it took a long time. I hope it gives you some peace to know that it's normal and that it gets less horrible.

Reading this, I ache with sadness. Faith is one of those elusive, intangible feelings.

I know the feeling of being scared around every corner. (That isn't a grammataically correct sentence, but it is exactly how I feel most of the time.)

It is difficult to live with. Fear is my constant companion. For me faith is that hand reaching out to me when I am holding onto the edge of a cliff, ready to fall. It I don't grab that hand...I am going to be lost forever. So 'faith it is'...it really is the only thing that gets me through the day sometimes.

Don't get me wrong, my life is basically average, but my grief can consume me if I let it. It blankets every aspect of my life. I hear you, and think that this could happen to you...maybe it already has. Take care not to let it.

I always remember a saying from one of my favorite movies...it happens to be a Christmas movie...Miracle on 34th Street...Faith is believing in something when common sense tells you not to.

As cheesy as it sounds, it reminds me of Kelly Clarkson's "Because of You"....
"Because of you I never stray too far from the sidewalk...because of you I try to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt..." I know the whole song doesn't really apply but it rings true. You're more cautious and that is so understandable.

I for one think you've handled this ordeal with grace, honesty, and transparency. I have no doubt your words are helping someone else right this moment.

What I pray for you, Beth, is that you will trust again. It'll take some time. After a serious car accident where my left tires ran off the road and I ended up spinning and hitting a bridge, I found it difficult to drive and terrifying anytime I'd even get close to the side of the road. I stayed in the middle lane, gripping the sterring wheel with both hands as tightly as I could.

But as time passed, I held that wheel a little less tightly, then I eventually moved back into the fast lane. Before long, I was driving with one hand again and enjoying the breeze with the window down and the sun shining in.

Last night before I went to bed I thought about you and I prayed for you. I asked God to provide whatever you needed, if it was strength or comfort or peace. But now that I know you really want to trust again--I will pray for that specifically. <3

I tried so hard to comment on your last post and my connection crapped out. I am sorry, I was thinking of you last night...

I understand what you are saying here. For me, I have faith in God and absolutely nothing else. Apart from God, I would have faith in nothing. I am full of fear about all of the things you described, but I have to remind myself that I am to "fear the Lord..." (respect) but not to have a spirit of fear in anything else. I believe the world is an evil and vile place, and I just could never face it alone. It's a tough thing to do, and only more so when tragedy happens. That though, is my personal lifeline. Going through my own crisis, it gives me something to hold tight to and gives me peace. (I am in no way relating any of my own experience to yours in losing your boys-there is no comparison there)

Just know, that we all support you. I know you are held tightly in prayer every single day. I think about you every day and every time I open my computer I check to see how you are doing. I know you think that people have heard enough and are ready for you to move on, I don't think anyone on this side even remotely thinks that way. We are here because we truly care about the girl on the other end (you).

Here are the words to it..
Two months is too little.
They let him go.
They had no sudden healing.
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling.

Who told us we’d be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We’re asking why this happens
To us who have died to live?
It’s unfair.

Chorus:
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.

This hand is bitterness.
We want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow.
The wise hands opens slowly to lillys of the valley and tomorrow.

(Chorus)
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.

Bridge:
If hope is born of suffering.
If this is only the beginning.
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?

(Chorus)
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held

I pray that you find peace and healing from this tragic event in life.

Beth~
I cannot begin to imagine what you are going through, so it is easy for me to say that I know you will find your faith again someday. But over the past few months I feel like the person I have gotten to "know" through her heartfelt words on a screen will one day find what she is looking for. Until then I will continue to pray for you and your family during this difficult time!